


Not-So-Secret Santa

by 221blackandwhitestripes



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Disabled Character, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Drunken Confessions, Drunken Kissing, Drunkenness, Fluff, Gift Work, M/M, Mayoral Duties, Mild Angst, Mistletoe, Office Party, Requited Love, Season 3 AU, Secret Santa, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-20 19:02:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17028249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/221blackandwhitestripes/pseuds/221blackandwhitestripes
Summary: Oswald isnotin the holiday mood.But, for Edward Nygma, perhaps he could be.





	Not-So-Secret Santa

**Author's Note:**

> For the lovely [buntesfuenkchen](https://buntesfuenkchen.tumblr.com/). I hope this fits your request!

“Are you ready for this?”

“Oh, yeah. Completely ready,” Oswald scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“You wanted to be Mayor.”

“Yes, so I could be in charge. Not so I could sit around in a Santa hat, posing for pictures with sick children.” Oswald shuddered, looking to the side, down the line of hospital beds and waiting journalists.

“Well, you do look rather dashing in that hat,” Ed told him with a kind smile, making Oswald’s cheeks heat. “And, to be fair, they’re not exactly going to contaminate you. Besides, you’re great with kids.”

“Since when?”

“Since now,” Ed instructed him firmly, steering him forward to the first patient. Oswald sighed, shooting him a withering look, but stepped up to the plate nonetheless, shaking the parents’ hands cordially before greeting the child.

“And what’s your name?” Oswald inquired, flashing his teeth when the boy grinned up at him.

“Brixtie!” the child piped up, eyes shining and teeth crooked.

“Brixtie?” Oswald side-eyed the evil-doers who dared name their child such a thing. “Well, it’s lovely to meet you.” Oswald posed for a photo, then moved on to the next one.

Ed remained two steps behind, shooting Oswald reassuring smiles each time he looked over his shoulder. They made their way around the room, Oswald introducing himself with an expertly crafted smile plastered across his face, despite the strain.

“Now, who's this young man?” Oswald closed his eyes briefly for a moment of reprieve.

“My name's Joe,” the boy cried enthusiastically. “And you're Mayor Cobblepot!”

“Yes, that's me,” Oswald chuckled, glancing around for the boy's parents.

“Thank you so much for saving us from the monsters!”

“Excuse me?” Oswald turned back to the boy sharply, eyeing his eager face before slowly turning his head to catch Ed's eye. Ed raised his eyebrows and shrugged. Oh. Not this time, then.

“Well, that’s very kind, young sir,” Oswald nodded his head, raising his eyebrows at the child’s exuberant smile. Oswald looked around. “May I ask where your parents are?”

“At home,” the boy answered quietly, chin dipping down. “They forgot you were coming.” A small titter echoed through the room as the patients and journalists whispered amongst themselves.

Oswald pursed his lips. What was with the parents in this town? Always either neglectful, abusive or dead.

“Well, be sure to tell them from me that their son is a fine young gentleman with impeccable manners,” Oswald informed the boy, nodding his head proudly.

“I will! Thank you, Mayor Cobblepot,” the boy enthused.

Oswald blinked at him. “You’re welcome.” He smiled, turning to make his way back to Ed’s side, squaring his shoulders as he met his eyes.

“So?” Ed smirked.

“So.” Oswald shrugged. “That wasn’t too bad a note to end on, I think.”

“End?” Ed licked his lips nervously and blinked.

“This…” Oswald stared at Ed’s features, noticing the white flash of teeth digging into his bottom lip. “This _is_ the end, right? I mean, that was the last child?”

“Of this room, yeah.” Ed’s voice was two octaves too high.

“Ed?” Oswald stared wide-eyed, not wanting to believe the truth. “Ed, no-”

“Come right this way, Mister Mayor, there’s lots to see.” The hospital manager waved him forward, opening the door.

“Ed!”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Ed batted his eyelashes distractingly. “Let’s just do it and it’ll be over soon, okay?”

“Mister Mayor?” The hospital manager tilted her head.

Oswald glared at Ed’s incessant puppy-dog eyes until he couldn’t stand it any more and finally relented. “Fine, let’s just do this.”

Ed breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank you.”

***

“It wasn’t _that_ bad.”

“Really? Not even the sales pitch?” Oswald asked, scowling around the rim of his glass.

“Come on, you actually liked some of the kids, don’t deny it,” Ed encouraged, the small creases around his eyes all too endearing for a man in a candy-cane striped Christmas Sweater. Oswald watched as he swallowed down the rest of his bottle.

“Yeah! In the first two or three rooms,” Oswald allowed, setting his glass down as he tried to avoid the distraction caused by Ed's chocolate irises. “But we visited fourteen children rooms, Ed. _Fourteen_. And that doesn’t include the brats in the ICU.”

“Okay, I admit that it was a lot,” Ed gestured wildly, hand almost smacking into Oswald's face before changing course at the last second. “But, hey! We made it through in one piece.”

“Yeah, thanks to you.” Oswald took a sip of his drink. “Honestly, if you hadn’t been there, I would have stormed out during the first half-hour, and _then_ there’d be chaos.”

Ed giggled shaking his head. “Well, it’s almost Christmas,” Ed slid down in his seat, almost tipping off. “So you should forgive me and forget about it.”

“Oh, I will. After a couple more of these.” Oswald lifted his glass in emphasis.

“Yeah, about that, how come we've both had four and you don’t seem any different,” Ed's brows dented in confusion and Oswald couldn't help but smile. “But I already feel like I’m all over the place?”

“High-tolerance from my well-spent youth,” Oswald grinned, watching the dim sparkle in Ed's eyes. “But I definitely don't want to be sober for this party.”

“I'm not finding sobriety all that appealing either,” Ed admitted, staring blankly at his bottle.

“Well, I'm sure there's a drinks table around here somewhere.”

“I know but it's crowded by the interns,” Ed shuddered, lips pulling back to reveal his teeth, “I don’t want to get any closer than I have to.”

“You’re my Chief of Staff,” Oswald huffed exasperatedly. “You have Jurisdiction over them!”

“Still,” Ed shrugged, smiling lopsidedly.

“Well, that’s all well and good, but I’m the Mayor,” Oswald stood up, tapping his cane against the polished floor, “And I’m going to fetch us some alcohol.”

Ed grinned. “Yes, sir.”

Oswald rolled his eyes, turning and making his way around the scattering of chairs and tables, through to the proudly-standing rows of bottles and solo cups glistening in the lights. There were, indeed, a hoard of interns and vultures picking for scraps, conversation in full swing as Oswald neared them.

“Oh my God, that’s so true!”

God, the younger generation always threatened to leave him with a headache.

“And have you seen the way they’ve been sitting together all night, staring into each other’s eyes? Uh, PDA much?”

Oswald scrunched his nose up at the putrid smell of gossip, pushing past it to step up to the table, the hoard of cluckers blocking his path.

“I once caught Nygma staring at his lips for like a full minute, and he didn’t even notice! _So. Blind._ ”

_Nygma._

“Excuse me,” Oswald snapped, rallying the group’s attention. They snapped their jabbering jaws shut, looking around guiltily as if Oswald would ever consider absolving them of their sins. Silently, they cleared a path for him to the table, eyes slowly dragging down to the floor. He glared at each of them as he collected several bottles to tuck beneath his arm, deciding he didn’t much feel like returning to the table again anytime soon.

“Ooh, thanks,” Ed clicked his tongue and laughed as Oswald stuck his collection of booze on their table.

“Why are we here, Ed?” Oswald asked him bluntly, sinking into his chair with a scowl on his face. “Neither of us are party-people, we don’t belong here.”

“But it’s Christmas-time!” Ed insisted, grinning widely. “Christmas-time is supposed to be special,” he added seriously, eyes dark, before he broke into giggles again. “And you’re the Mayor!”

“Yeah, but-” Oswald sighed, eyes flickering shut.

_“I once caught Nygma staring at his lips for like a full minute, and he didn’t even notice! **So. Blind**.”_

“Besides, it’s Secret Santa this year! And you love gifts!”

Oswald scowled. He hated that tradition. He remembered reluctantly sticking his hand into that god-awful trucker-hat only to pull out the name of some unknown loser from accounting. Oswald would be gifting him the first bottle of champagne he’d spotted as he walked into the Siren’s club at three in the afternoon, gift-wrapped by one of the faceless interns.

Fucking _interns_.

“I hate Christmas,” Oswald declared, watching Ed steadily gulp down beer like it was water on a hot day. “It is the embodiment of all things wrong with the world.”

“What are you talking about?” Ed protested, pouting heavily. “Nobody can hate Christmas! It’s the best holiday _ever_.” Ed’s brow had a little crease in it, adding to his overall toddler-like despondency. It took two tries for Oswald to look away.

“For one, Jewish people,” Oswald quipped, gesticulating out to the rest of the room as a whole, assuming at least one had to be Jewish. If not, he would have to have a word to personnel about diversity in the workplace. “Two,” Oswald turned back, “Christmas is just commercialized drivel that’s packaged as some magical, spiritual thing to be poured down our throats until we realize too late that it’s bleach and we’re all going to die.”

“Wow.” Ed blinked, eyes wide behind his specs. “That’s vivid.” He giggled, higher than before. Oswald shrugged. “But, you’re wrong. Christmas is _supposed_ to be special, I know it is.”

“Oh, yeah, and that’s why we convince our children that there’s a man living in a red suit in the north pole, surrounded by elves, working painstakingly hard throughout the year in order to make the most magical toys in the world and then deliver them all in one night to ‘good’ children, only so they can start the whole hellish process over again?”

“Well,” Ed shrugged. “It’s a nice thought don’t you think?”

“What about the bad kids, Ed?” Oswald pointed out, “What happens to them?”

Ed licked his lips. “Well, I suppose, they end up all the more happier when they find out the truth.”

“You bet they do,” Oswald grumbled. He watched quietly as Ed downed another drink, somehow faster this time. “You sure you don’t want to slow down with that, Ed?”

Ed’s eyes were all too distant as he laughed again.

“I just realize that we’re probably going to leave ‘soon as the Secret Santa thing’s over, which is s’posed to happen at Midnight, so not long now.” Ed shrugged, the barest drop of beer spilling over the lip of the bottle at the movement. Oswald watched it crawl down the bottle, then Ed’s hand, sneaking beneath Ed’s cuff to continue its journey. The Bravery. “I just want to have my fair share of fun until then.”

Oswald bit his tongue as he watched Ed lap up the spilled liquid from the bottle before sealing the top with his lips and swallowing it down once more.

“Okay,” Oswald said distantly, tongue moving in something of a fumble. “Whatever floats your boat.”

“Oh, this certainly does.” Ed winked.

Oswald tried to remember why he didn’t want to stay.

Oswald rolled his eyes at himself and grabbed the bottle of scotch he’d managed to nab from under those intern-vultures’ noses. It was cheap and quite awful, but it would do on a day like this.

“Oh, look,” Ed pointed to the doorway where a couple had stopped, looking skyward. “Mistletoe.”

The couple proceeded to be coerced into kissing in front of everyone, a chorus of cheers and hoots erupting seconds later. Oswald rolled his eyes at the vulgarity, pouring out his whiskey and taking a couple swallows. Ed seemed to be going the same way, snatching the tequila bottle Oswald had grabbed on a whim and taking four large swallows with his eyes closed and nose wrinkled from the taste. Oswald watched his Adam’s Apple bob and clutched his drink tighter.

“Maybe you should try something a little milder,” Oswald commented, keeping his eyes on him wearily.

“Oh _no_ , this’s perfect, thank you,” Ed insisted with a slow smile, eyes blinking hazily behind his glasses.

“Right,” Oswald agreed, not convinced.

“Secret Santa time!” Someone called across the room.

“Oh, good!” Ed chirped, trying to get to his feet and failing twice, giggling as he fell back into his chair.

“Here,” Oswald slowly got to his feet, knees clicking, and offered Ed a hand.

“Heh, thanks, feathers,” Ed giggled, patting Oswald's hair with a hiccup. Oswald scowled, shooting a look towards the giggling interns, but otherwise allowed it.

“Let's put all the gifts in the middle and I'll hand them out one by one.”

“Yes, thank you for your child level logic,” Oswald muttered.

“Here, Oswald, I'll get you a chair,” Ed declared, long legs carrying him like a newborn giraffe across the room.

Oswald didn’t bother protesting, allowing Ed to place the chair on the edge of the gathered circle, a PA on his left and a spot for Edward on his right.

Sitting on the floor. Like school children. Hadn’t Oswald had enough for one day?

“This’s gonna be fun,” Ed hiccuped as he came back from laying both their gifts in the centre, the party bag Ed had used in one hand, the tequila bottle in the other as he plopped down into his spot.

“We're leaving after this, right?” Oswald whispered down to him. He hadn't really observed Edward drunk before, but there was a chance that in his intoxicated state, Ed might let slip a couple things not meant for an audience's ears. He didn't need Ed blurting out about Arkham or murder or anything else incriminating. They could end up with _both_ of their necks on the line.

“‘Course!” Ed whisper-shouted. “‘Cause you hate Christmas!”

Oswald lowered his face to his hand and _breathed._

“Don't worry, don't worry, I get it!” Ed blustered, not even trying to lower his voice, now. “You have all those good reasons. But… but it's _Christmas_ , and it's-”

“Ed,” Oswald pursed his lips, waiting for Ed to refocus his mind correctly. “The game's about to start.”

“Ooh, goody,” Ed clapped his hands together excitedly, giggling at the noise.

“Okay, everyone,” Eric called, standing up, “I want y'all to close your eyes while I hand the gifts out. When I’m done, you can open ‘em.”

Oswald watched closely as everyone shut their eyes, the interns giggling amongst themselves as they elbowed each other in the ribs.

“Oswald. Eyes shut,” Ed hissed. Oswald smirked, looking over to meet Ed’s burry gaze through his glasses, only to find his eyes already shut.

Oswald rolled his eyes, going back to watching Eric as he placed a gift in front of one of the PAs.

“Eyes, Oswald.” 

Oswald glanced at Ed again. His eyes were still shut. Oswald blinked at him twice.

“How did you..?” He asked eventually.

“Because I know you,” Ed replied simply, eyes remaining shut. For a moment, he seemed completely sober.

Oswald smiled, helpless to it.

“Of course you do, friend.” Oswald shut his eyes.

The interns kept up their giggles, other people around the circle whispering to each other. Oswald pursed his lips and tried to block it all out.

“Okay, folks, you can open your eyes now.”

Oswald opened his eyes and looked to the side, catching Ed blinking his eyes open slowly like a lazy cat waking up in the sun.

Ed pulled his gift into his lap, the package small enough to fit in his hand. Ed opened it quickly, lacking his usual concentration and finesse when it came to unwrapping, instead, tearing through the paper like a maniac.

Oswald's maniac.

He shook his head: what an idiotic thought.

“Oh.” Oswald glanced back at Ed, taking in the candy-cane striped giraffe’s wide-eyed stare as he examined a Rubik's Cube.

Wait, a Rubik's Cube? That was what they got Ed?

Inexplicably, Ed began to giggle. “I've always wanted to taste a Rubik's Cube,” he admitted softly. Oswald gaped as he watched Ed run the flat of his tongue up the side of the cube.

Apparently, drunk Ed had a very different approach to Rubik's Cubes than the sober one.

“I'm going to enjoy this later,” Ed stated, forcing it into one of his jacket pockets. Oswald was too shocked to even speak up about suit linings or tailoring.

“Uh, are you going to open your present, Oswald?”

Oswald frowned, looking down at his feet where his gift had been placed.

“Here,” Ed toppled forward to grab the gift, stretching his arm up to Oswald to pass it along.

“Thank you, Edward.” Oswald shot him a concerned look before beginning to peel away the Christmas Tree wrapping paper. It felt store-bought preserved in its neatness, the corners too sharp to be anything else. The cardboard box inside was inscribed with a simple message: “Merry Christmas from your Secret Santa! I hope you like it!”

“Open it, Oswald.”

Inside, ensconced in tissue paper, laid possibly the most beautiful scarf Oswald had ever seen. He pulled it out, examining the pattern. Judging by the odd variances in the stitching, it was handmade. Perhaps not store bought after all?

Oswald ran his hand across it. Pure cashmere, the expensive kind, dark rich purple. As he ran his fingers across it, he noticed something under one of the folds at the end; something had been crocheted, kept hidden away. Oswald brought it closer to his face. It looked like a small picture of a bouquet of lilies, not dissimilar to the kind Oswald found himself laying at his mother’s grave every week, tears in his eyes and words caught in his throat. Oswald glanced around suspiciously. Who could possibly know of such a thing? Who would-

Oswald's eyes alighted on Ed. He was staring at him, lips pressed together firmly, eyes still bleary and unreadable, his nostrils flaring.

Oh.

Of course.

“Who do you think got it for you?” Ed asked.

Oswald smiled at him. “I don’t know.”

“You _do_ like it, though?” he asked hopefully.

“Yes.” Oswald nodded. “Very much.”

Edward breathed out a sigh. “Good.” 

Oswald nodded at him. “Are you ready to go?”

“Aww, do we _have_ to go?” Edward whined, back to being a petulant toddler, apparently.

“Ed, you’re drunk. I have to get you home,” Oswald told him reasonably.

“I’m not _that_ drunk,” Ed denied. Oswald tilted his head: _Really?_ “I could be drunker.” As if to emphasize his point, Ed reached behind himself to his previously abandoned tequila and took a long drag.

“Oh, Ed, you brought that with you?”

“It’s funny,” Ed smacked his lips curiously. “I don’t even taste how bad it is anymore.”

“Oh, Ed,” Oswald rubbed his forehead with his fingers. “We definitely need to go, now.”

“Fine,” Ed pouted. “But I’m taking this with me!” Ed waved the bottle about in emphasis before taking another gulp.

“No.” Oswald shook his head.

“But it’s free!” Ed insisted.

“It was bought with tax dollars, Ed!”

“So? I don’t pay taxes,” Ed told him.

“Of course, you don’t.” Oswald rubbed his eyes.

Ed giggled, lifting the bottle to his lips again.

“Ed, you’re drunk enough,” Oswald snapped, grabbing the bottle before Ed could take another sip. “You’ll be telling me all your secrets soon.”

“Ooh, I have so many secrets,” Ed declared brightly, thankfully forgetting the alcohol for a moment.

“At least wait until we’re outside so no one can hear you,” Oswald sighed. He couldn’t trust anyone else not to take advantage of Ed’s vulnerability and use whatever Ed spouted against him.

“If you have me, you want to share me. If you share me, you haven't got me. What am I?” Ed giggled.

“A secret, Ed.” Oswald rolled his eyes, finally getting to his feet, knees clicking, scooping his scarf up gently before grabbing his cane in the same hand. “Come on, let’s go.”

“Did you know that the square root of one hundred and forty-five thousand, seven hundred and sixty-one is three hundred and eighty-one point seven-eight-six-five-nine?” Ed asked, springing to his feet like he weighed nothing, only to topple towards Oswald with his arms outstretched. Oswald caught him swiftly and quickly wrapped Ed’s arm around his shoulder. It only took a few steps for the interns to start whispering again, but Oswald was too concerned with Ed’s safety to bother with those imbeciles.

Oswald led Edward to the door, thankfully still open for people to come and go as they pleased.

“No, wait!” Ed stopped suddenly in the doorway. “I need the party bag! It cost me twenty-five cents!”

“Ed, just leave it, I’ll just get you another one,” Oswald promised, stopping as well to try and pull him along.

“Really?” Ed asked. “That same exact one?”

It was then that he noticed how quiet it had gotten all of a sudden. He glanced back into the room, only to find a sea of eyes watching him. Or, more precisely, he and Ed.

“What?” Oswald snapped. Slowly, the room’s gaze turned skyward, a few people pointing to something above Oswald’s head. Oswald eyes slowly rose to join them.

There, wrapped tightly in red ribbon: Mistletoe.

Of fucking course, it was. Of course, he’d forgotten it was there. That was just his life, wasn’t it?

“You have to do it!” Someone yelled.

“Yeah, come on, Mr. Mayor!”

“No,” Oswald told them.

“Why not?” Oswald glanced to where Ed was looking down at him sadly.

“Yeah, why not, Mr. Mayor?”

Oswald ignored them, looking up at Ed. “Edward, you’re drunk, you-”

“It’s the rules, Ozzie,” Ed pouted. Oswald blushed at the nickname, looking away. The crowd seemed captive in watching them, actively curious to see what would happen. “Oswald?” He felt a tugging on his sleeve and his eyes slid to Ed’s once more.

He looked so hopeful. Like he actually wanted this.

“Fine,” Oswald sighed, a chorus of cheers and hoots erupting behind him. “Um,” he poked Ed’s side. “Can you lower your head a bit, Ed?”

“Oh, yes.” Ed nodded his head vigorously, grinning widely.

“Ed.”

“Oh, right.” Ed leant forward into Oswald’s space, a soft smile still curling his lips. Oswald closed his eyes, breathed in and out slowly, trying to calm the wild beating of his heart. Slowly, he leant in, pressing his lips against Ed’s cheek in the softest of kisses.

Wolf whistles and catcalls bombarded Oswald’s ears but he ignored it all and turned away.

“O-Oswald?” Ed giggled. He didn't understand.

“Let's go, Ed,” Oswald told him quietly.

“M'kay,” Ed agreed, tottering along behind him.

Oswald had to help _Ed_ down the stairs for once, an unwelcome change as Ed kept slipping and stumbling like a newborn Bambi.

“Ed, be careful,” Oswald chastised, struggling to keep a hold of him. “You’re going to fall and break something.”

“My heart,” Ed giggled. Oswald sighed but kept moving until they were down the main steps and headed out the back of the building.

“Stay here, I just need to call my driver,” Oswald instructed him.

“Ooh, Lewis? I love Lewis!”

“Yeah, Lewis.” Oswald started punching in the number.

“O-Oswald,” Ed giggled, struggling to continue, “Did-did you know-” Ed broke off into giggles again and Oswald’s phone finally clicked.

“Ah, Lewis!” He snapped.

“Know that I-”

“We’re waiting around the back.”

“I-I love your hair.”

“If you’re not here in five minutes,” Oswald began threateningly.

“A-and, and your eyes.”

“I promise you-”

“A-and you.” Ed giggled again.

”Your gloves will learn the true meaning of _‘fingerless’_.”

“I-I love you.”

 _“Alright, boss,”_ Lewis grunted.

“Good.” Oswald snapped the phone shut. Ed was staring at him through his smeared glasses. “What?”

Ed’s eyes flicked down to the scarf Oswald still held in his other hand. “You know you could strangle someone with that. It’s strong enough.” Ed giggled. “I promise I wouldn’t mind.”

“Why should you mind?” Oswald humoured him.

Ed’s eyes slid left and right, looking about shiftily before he leant in. “Can I tell you a secret? We’re outside, now.”

“Well, since we’re outside.” Oswald rolled his eyes.

Ed giggled, the sound ringing loudly in Oswald’s ear. “I made the scarf. It took me _days_. But, shh,” Ed breathed into Oswald’s ear, making his hair stand on end. “Don’t tell anybody. It’s s’posed to be _Secret_ Santa.”

“Don’t worry, Edward,” Oswald replied quietly. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

“Good,” Ed huffed, a smile on his breath as he leaned in so close Oswald could feel his lips graze his ear. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the long drag of headlights coming up the back driveway, of course belonging to Oswald’s memorial car. “Our ride’s here, Ed. We better go.”

“M’kay,” Ed giggled, hanging onto Oswald’s arm.

The driver pulled up and Oswald waved at him to stay inside so he could open the door himself. He ushered Ed to go in first, rolling his eyes when the great candy cane fell flat on his face, covering the entire back seat.

“Ed,” he complained, shoving at his legs. Ed swivelled around to give Oswald some room, only to tip over again and fall into Oswald’s lap. Ed giggled, rubbing his face into the front of Oswald’s waistcoat while purring like a kitten.

“Heh, hey, Oswald-” Ed giggled.

“What?” Oswald raised his brow impatiently, trying to ignore how endearing Ed looked snuggled up to him.

“What-what’s black and white and… and…” Ed giggled, eyes dancing about like he didn’t know which part of Oswald’s face to focus on. “And just the _greatest?_ ”

“I don’t know, Edward,” Oswald sighed, watching Ed’s eyelashes flutter behind his glasses. Gorgeous.

“You!” Ed exclaimed, only to break into giggles once more, head thrown back across Oswald’s thigh.

“I suppose that’s a secret, too?” Oswald guessed, struggling to keep his expression in check as he observed the delighted smile on Ed’s face.

“Shh,” Ed placed a finger against Oswald’s mouth, giggling still. Oswald regretfully pushed it away.

“Ed?” Oswald swallowed, pressing his lips together. “Why are you drunk?”

“‘Was nervous,” Ed explained shortly, avoiding Oswald’s eyes to examine his tie instead. His long fingers reached up to twist in the loop, fiddling with the clip, and Oswald allowed it.

“Why were you nervous?” He asked, feeling his fingers twitch with their own need to fidget.

“Shh,” Ed shook his head. “It’s a secret.”

“You can’t tell me it?” Oswald asked.

“It’s a secret secret. ‘Can’t tell _anyone_ ,” Ed explained quietly.

“Okay,” Oswald allowed himself a small smile, carefully pushing back a loose curl that had fallen onto Ed’s forehead with all of his shifting about. “Okay.”

When they eventually arrived at the Manor steps, Oswald took it upon himself to help Ed out of the car once more, letting him lean on Oswald as the alcohol and tiredness really started to kick in.

“O-Oswald?” Ed asked as Oswald helped him up the stairs.

“Yeah?” Oswald answered, struggling to open the door with Ed leaning so heavily on him.

“Why - with the mistletoe - why-” The door was helpfully thrown open by a haggard looking Olga, frowning deeply at both of them.

“Zaydi vnutr', pridurki,” she grumbled, turning away from them. Oswald followed her gratefully, struggling with both Edward and his cane.

“Why-why didn’t you just kiss me?”

“Hmm?” Oswald decided to head for the living room, hoping Olga had lit the fire so he could warm their cold bones.

“Cheek is never enough, Oswald,” Ed mumbled, barely legible. “It’s _lips_. Lips, Oswald!”

“Sure, Ed,” Oswald huffed, struggling to get Ed and himself through the doorway, his cane slippery from the snow outside. He managed to almost get them both to the sofa, when Oswald felt Ed lean onto him just a bit too far. Like the sudden snap of tree branch breaking out from beneath them, the cane slipped away, sending them both crashing onto the couch; Oswald on his back and Ed on top of him, knees on either side of his hips, staring down at him with a sudden intensity.

Oswald licked his lips, watching as Ed’s eyes slowly trailed down his face. His ribs shuddered as he inhaled. “Wha-”

Ed’s lips pressed against his, stealing away the rest of his sentence in two heated breaths. He was so close, Oswald could feel the frames of his glasses had slipped down and were now resting on his own face. Oswald squeezed his eyes shut, blocking out everything else, just giving himself a moment to pretend that this was okay, that he was allowed this, that it was what they both wanted.

With reluctance, he opened his eyes and gently pushed Ed away. “Ed, you don’t want-”

“Don’t care.” Ed kissed him again, lips pressed harder against his. All Oswald wanted to do was melt, let Ed keep kissing him into the cushions, fall asleep with that taste on his tongue. But as Ed opened his mouth to lick his tongue inside Oswald’s mouth, the air of alcohol was all too apparent, and Oswald was forced to stop it again.

“Ed, you’re drunk,” Oswald stated, willing the longing out of his voice until it was flat and monotoned. “You don’t want this.”

“I do,” Ed whimpered, trying to lean in again. “I do, I do, I do.”

Oswald sighed, holding Ed by the shoulders in order to keep him at bay, not too difficult when he only had gravity and Ed’s meagre upper body strength to contend with. “Ed, no.”

“Why won’t you kiss me, Ozzie?” Ed sobbed. It seemed he’d reached _that_ point in his drunkenness. “Why… Why-”

“Ed, what is this really about?” Oswald sighed, watching Ed’s features crumple above him.

“Why-why do you h-hate Christmas?” Ed asked miserably, finally dropping his chin onto Oswald’s chest in defeat. “I just wanted you to love it, b-but-”

“I’m sorry, Ed,” Oswald sighed. “It’s not your fault, I promise.”

“Please, tell me,” Ed requested quietly, slightly muffled by Oswald’s collar.

Oswald smiled, looking down to see Ed’s large brown eyes staring up at him. “My mother and I used to celebrate Christmas every year,” he explained softly. “We’d hang homemade wreaths and pool together what money we had to give each other presents. She’d make fish soup and stuffed cabbage, or whatever equivalent she could manage that year.” Oswald laughed as he recalled a few dreadful instances, along with some surprisingly good adaptations. “And, after all that, she’d make us both a cup of her home-brewed tea, and we’d sit by the fire.”

Oswald paused, frowning. His mother had never looked as alive as she had in those moments, the fire licking at the golden threads of her hair, dancing in her bright pale eyes. They’d managed to squeeze into the same chair together every year until he was a teenager and managed to earn enough to get them something bigger. He could still feel her hands in his hair.

Oswald opened his eyes, not remembering when they’d slipped closed. Ed peered at him, patient for him to continue.

Oswald sighed. “She’d tell me about Hungary. Stories she could remember, a few family secrets.” He remembered how she’d cackle with laughter, almost capsizing the both of them, the delight in her eyes greyed through the haziness in his memory.

Oswald shook his head at himself, feeling his chest seize painfully. “And I _hate_ that I will never have that again. She’s been ripped away from me. All of the memories and stories she never told have been lost. I _hate_ it.”

Oswald looked down, puzzled when he felt Ed gently grip his hand, until he noticed Ed gently unfurling his fingers from the fist they’d made.

“Christmas doesn’t feel like Christmas without her. So, if it’s not Christmas, what’s the point of celebrating at all.”

“I understand,” Ed assured him softly. Oswald watched his slow blink.

“You do?”

“I-I think so,” Ed nodded as if trying to convince himself. “I can’t say I experienced the same thing myself, but I understand.”

Oswald nodded. “Still, I’m sorry.”

Ed bit his lip. “I never liked Christmas much. In my house, I’d be lucky if I got a lump of coal in my stocking for Christmas. Actually,” Ed frowned, “I think one year I did get a lump of coal.”

Oswald widened his eyes, but decided that conversation would be better tackled later at a far more sober date.

“But, I do remember one good thing about it,” Ed continued. “I used to stay up all night watching those old Christmas movies, and they all seemed to say the same thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Christmas is the holiday meant to be shared with someone else.” Ed shrugged. “I guess that, this year, I figured I could share it with you. Then I’d finally get what everyone else has.”

“The perfect Christmas?” Oswald laughed.

“The perfect Christmas,” Ed confirmed, chin scraping Oswald’s chest on a nod.

“Hmm.” That didn’t sound too unreasonable. There was no reason why Oswald couldn’t at least give it a shot. 

“Well, you know,” he began. “It’s not Christmas _yet_. We still have time to prepare.”

“You mean..?” Ed looked up at him longingly.

“If you’re sure about spending your first proper Christmas with me,” Oswald stated.

“Oh, I’ve never been more sure of anything,” Ed confirmed in a rush.

“Good.”Oswald shifted around, helping Edward so they could both sit up. “We have so much to do already. First of all, the wreaths. Now, I’ve noticed some good looking trees on the grounds, but-”

“Oswald.”

Oswald turned, taking in Ed’s grin until he pulled him in, a hand clutching the back of Oswald’s neck desperately, the other in his hair as he kissed him passionately. Oswald let himself give in, opening his mouth and welcoming in Ed’s tequila soaked tongue. He suckled it softly, feeling Ed gasp against him, before slowly pulling away.

“You won’t regret this in the morning?” he asked.

“Shh,” Ed held a finger to his lips. “It’s a secret.”

Oswald grinned. Of course, it was.

Ed pulled him again, kissing him like there were ten bundles of mistletoe above their heads.

Merry Christmas from his Not-So-Secret Santa, indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to everyone who helped me work through this fic. Christmas is definitely not my speciality as a born and bred Jewish girl, but, hey, I tried.
> 
> Thank you for reading! As always, any and all kudo/comments are greatly appreciated.


End file.
